Broken
by Ginevra Magdalene Katnis Eaton
Summary: Eponine has troubled past - Enjolras has to help her live with it. Established Enjonine. One-Shot


**Carrie Hope Fletcher as Éponine, Anton Zetterholm as Enjolras. Just a quick drabble that's in my head though I keep coming back and editing it. This is my blog address if you want to check that out – www. angel-book-life .weebly .com**

Éponine turned her face away as her boyfriend raised his hand. He was going to slap her, she was certain, for that was what always happened. The hand slowly lowered having not met her face.

"'Ponine?" her boyfriend's voice floated towards her and she turned her head back to look at him.

His brown eyes were staring at her in confusion, concern and she could see a tiny but of hurt. It had been months since she had rejected one of his advances. He put his hand out for her to take but she left it lying on the table. Eventually, after several long silent seconds, he took it back, running it through his golden waves as he watched her.

Her dark brown eyes darted around the small café they were sitting in - not their regular one that the frequented with the Les Amis since they didn't want to get accosted by them with talk of the revolution or teasing about how Éponine had made their stone leader soft. Her curly hair was curlier than it had been when she lived on the street for then it had been limp and sad. Arms had slowly curled around herself, shoulders dropped in, once short and dirty nails – now clean though still short because she couldn't break that habit – clenched in the sleeves of his red jacket that was draped around her shoulders

He knew the position well. She was withdrawing from him again, her mind lost in the past, to memories he didn't know too much of but he wished he could protect her from. He also knew he would never be able to bring her out of it when she got like this, when she refused to let him touch her because she was so sure that it would be in a harmful way though he had never laid such a hand on her.

His hand dropped to his pocket and he rolled the small box that sat in there around between his fingers. How long would it be before she pulled out of this one? On the rare occasion she got like this it could vary from a few minutes to several days during which he could never reach her. He had tried and failed so many times with so many different approaches.

He risked stretching his hand out again to rest on her cheek and she flinched away from his touch but he held strong – there had to be some way to help her. She had to know some deep inside her still that he would never harm her. He tried to think of what had set her off and the only thing he could think of was the waitress dropping a tray full of glass just behind her.

"Éponine," he moved to kneel in front of her unsure of this movement when she began to shake almost unnoticeably. He froze and moved his hand from her cheek, trying to send her the message that if she didn't want him touching her he wouldn't. "I love you. Come back to me. I have never and will never lay a hand on you in any way that will inflict you harm – you know that.

"Remember yesterday, 'Ponine? You were certain of that just yesterday, curled into my side as I had a debate with Grantaire about alcohol and the day before, when we were planning the revolution, you let me brush hair out of your face and you explained, once again, why that location for the barricade was stupid and dangerous. This morning even as we lay in bed, you knew then and I know you still know now.

"I'm not Montparnasse, I'm not going to hurt you and say it's for your own good and because I love you, because that's not true - I do love you but harming you would never be for your own good. You should never have gone through that and I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you from it. I'm sorry…. _I am not him_."

Éponine looked over at his honest, concerned face and he managed to smile at her very weakly. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the café on them but kept going none the less, let them judge them and make up stories, what did it matter?

"If you want a selfish reason, for I know how cynical you can be, seeing you in pain, even the slightest bit, hurts me. So if you don't mind, I don't want to hurt myself by hurting you."

His smile widened as hers made a small appearance and he took a deep breathe, reaching back into his pocket for the box.

"Now perhaps this isn't the right time and it's certainly not how I wanted to do this," he shifted slightly so he was on one knee and risked touching her to make her face him, she flinched slightly as his skin connected with her knees but let him turn her towards him. He very slowly opened the box and saw her eyes widen. "Will you marry me?"

She gaped at him and he felt himself shift again uncomfortable – why did this girl have to make the marble around him crack? Eventually she spoke.

"You really want to marry the broken girl who can't either be touched by a man right now?" she asked sceptically with a raised eyebrow.

He pressed his lips together and spoke gravely.

"No," there was a gasp from someone in the café at his response but Éponine didn't look surprised in the slightest anymore as though she expected him to take it back already. "However, I really do want to marry my beautiful, tough, sarcastic girlfriend who just happens to be a slightly broken."

It wasn't the most traditional proposal but then they weren't the most traditional or conventional couple either.


End file.
